


No Sign of Land

by tired (Incorrect)



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Doctor!Steve, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, im sorry this is awful, lots of tags to be added in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:30:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incorrect/pseuds/tired
Summary: Steve Rogers, model citizen, may or may not have seen a man's bare naked ass in front of the vending machine. You can't expect a lonely raging bisexual as himself to stay in his lane could you?





	1. Who Is This Bucky Guy

"Watch it!" Yelled someone when Steve bumped into their shoulder. Not wanting to start any fight in his work environment, Steve walked straight ahead to the common room where he could drink his overdue caffeine in peace. He immediately punched in his order to the machine and calmly watched the boiling hot water gently pours into his cup. He walked towards the fridge just to s-

Jesus fuck

Tony ate Steve's donuts. Again.

Ah yes... The thrill of working in a crowded ER filled with sleep-deprived assholes who somehow can't have any form of social live. Steve knew this would happen, but he shrugged off every single warning he was given by his old girlfriend, Peggy. While she shipped of to the land of tea and glory to study business, he went to the ever so prestigious John Hopkins.

Life was going great for the young and still blooming Steven Grant Rogers. He's getting nice grades and was able to maintain his 4.0 GPA throughout the gruesome years of med school ( not ). He did his residency at a nice hospital near home before it all went to shit.

On one fine day 2 years into his residency, he received a call from a shaken up Mrs. Nielsen, his mother's church buddy. By the time the poor woman manages to utter a single cliché yet super heartbreaking sentence, Steve was already on the floor trying to hold back an asthma attack he didn't know he still had.

No one heard from him for awhile.

A couple weeks later he showed up at his own mother's funeral looking a little bit worse for wear. He said nothing the whole service, but stayed awhile after the ceremony to thank people for coming. The only reason he had even considered to stay is because his mama didn't raise no kid without manners.

Without anyone knowing, Steve Rogers has enlisted to the navy. He shipped out for training right after the whole funeral ordeal is over. The sooner the better he thought. He became a medic, a corpsman they said, had a whole goddamn platoon and shit.

Steven G. Rogers did two tours before thinking that he has paid enough respect for his late father who weren't even there to raise him. He handed his resignation letter and hurried back home. He did what he had to do to get his medical license and voi-la, here he is, working in an ER with people that steals his donut.

Steve has been on-call for about 13 hours when they wheeled in an unconscious man through the glass doors of the hospital. Steve quickly got on his feet as his fellow medical personnel are rushing to the EMTs.

As the nurses transferred the pale unconscious man's body from the gurney to the bed, Steve puts on his latex gloves and rushed to the scene. "The patient is a white male, early thirties, found inside his bathroom covered in blood, showing multiple symptoms of alcohol poisoning, his friend said the patient has been drinking copious amounts of alcohol throughout the night." Steve released his breath. " Do we have any contact info on this John Doe?" The nurse looked down and flipped some paper on her clipboard and said "Yeah, his name is James Barnes and he listed that guy, who found him, as his emergency contact."

"Come on people! Run his blood and check for any damages on his vitals. I want to know how much he drank tonight and is there anything else in his stomach. Also someone please clean up his cuts!" The one thing that has been obvious since childhood is that Steve Rogers is bossy. The whole neighborhood knows that. Even though he was as small as a toothpick he can certainly brings out his voice loud enough for people to notice him.

The whole procedure felt like a hazy blurry movie sequence. As some nurses tried to clean up the cuts on his forearm, some others were setting up the stomach pump. Steve experienced this high when he gets strangely excited. Even though the cause is morbid doesn't mean it shouldn't be a nice experience for Steve.

 

 

 

“Are you awake?” exclaimed a total complete stranger hovering right next to his bed.

“Huh?” Bucky said as he squinted as his eyes to adjust to the vigorous lighting in this damn white room.

"So you are." The stranger is wearing a pair of scrubs that indicates that she is in fact, a doctor. She cupped her hands to Bucky's jaw and placed the other around his eyes. She took out some sort of a flashlight out of her pockets and moves it from one eye to the other.

"Do you know where you are? Or what happened?" Bucky looked around to see the very obvious surroundings of the hospital, but he doesn't seem to be able to recollect any events that might have occurred the night before.

"I don't know? Had to much to drink?" He guessed but the mind-numbing pain in his arm begs to differ.

The strangely attractive fierce doctor hums and scribbled some words into the clipboard on his bedside and said "Dr. Wilson will be with you shortly." She walked out.

Before Bucky even had enough time to process all of this jumbled information, his buddy, who doesn't look like he's here to be all buddy-buddy with him, practically barged into the small white cubicle, slamming the door behind him.

"What the fuck Barnes?"

"Clint, I-"

"You know what Bucky? You don't have to explain yourself. I CARE ABOUT YOU. Did you even think what it would have done to me if you died? Lucky would've noticed you stopped coming bringing him pizzas. He would be sad. I would be sad." Ranted Clint before he slumped his body to the chair next to the bed.

"It was an accident." Bucky said after a moment of silence.

"Come again?"

"It was an accident. I just... wanted to feel something." His voice cracked up a bit towards the end which caused Clint to feel multiple emotions he never though he’d ever felt before.

"Oh Bucky.." Clint said as he leaned into Bucky for a hug.

In the middle of their totally platonic bro dude hug, a doctor lets out a cough trying to indicate his presence in the room. He looked down on his clipboard and said "Mr. Barnes, can we speak in private?"

As Clint shuffled his way outside, Dr. Wilson seemed to be getting comfortable on Clint's previous spot. "James... Can I call you James?" Bucky nodded sheepishly. "Well James, you can call me Sam."

"I'm here to ask you a series of questions regarding your accident last night." He lets out a cough. "I need you to answer these questions truthfully, do you understand that James." Bucky nodded sullenly.

"So James... Have you ever feel really desperate?” “No.” Check.

“Do you ever feel life is not worth living? ”No.” Check.

“Do you ever feel that life is not worth living?” “No.” Check.

“Do you ever feel that it would be better if you were dead?” “No.” Check.

“Do you ever wish you were dead?” “No.” Check.

“Have you thought seriously about killing yourself?” “No.” Check.

“Do you really want to die?” A pause. “No.” he finally said.

Dr. Wilson stared intently at his clipboard whilst constantly clicking his pen, which is slowing but surely driving Bucky mad.

“So uhh… Doc. When can I leave?” Bucky but his lower lip with hopeful eyes.

“I’m sorry James, but that won’t be happening anytime soon.“ Claimed Sam as he restlessly tapped the edge of his clipboard. “You have to go through suicide watch and i-“

“You do know that I wasn’t trying to ya know… off myself.” Bucky said in a mixed state of confusion and anger.

“Dully noted. Well first we need to get you to be able to walk on your feet. Then just see how everything goes” Bucky’s mouth formed into a frown. “But that’s it I guess. We don’t have the authority to hold you here any longer than necessary.

Bucky smiled curtly at Sam. “Thanks doc.”

“Anytime James.”

Steve walked into the hospital like any other day. Because this is what it was to Steve. Any other day. He slumped his bag onto the chair and said hi to everyone he knew. He punched in his clock and proceeds to get his usual cup of hospital coffee.

“The machine is broken.” Hollered Sharon as Steve keeps on punching his orders. “Damn it.”

After another 15 seconds of him aggressively pushing the unresponsive buttons, Steve finally let the machine go and headed to the vending machine near the break room.

And uh-oh

.

.

.

There was a guy standing in front of him with his perfectly shaped ass hanging naked with no cover whatsoever ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshi-

“You like what you’re seein’ pal?” He said without even looking at Steve. Thank god. The blood on his system thankfully made the decision to rush into his face instead of his dick so that’s good news.

“Uh…um…. Yes… I mean no NO!” Steve clumsily almost tripped on his shoes while saying that which makes the situation even more worse than it already is.

“Well that’s rude.” Silence. “Don’t you guys have like a stash of better coffee somewhere?” The stranger with the tragically beautiful ass questioned with curiosity in his eyes.

“Yeah I guess but the machine is broken so… you know..” Steve answered while actively trying to avoid making eye contact to both the person and the ass.

The patient walked away with his boiling cup of coffee while sashaying his awful hospital gown exposed ass with him. “ ‘m gonna sleep now.” The patient said in a slightly slurred speech.

Steve got his dose of caffeine and tried to forget about what happened for the rest of the evening.

Steve wasn’t expecting another encounter with nice-ass man. But the ER is surprisingly quiet for a regular Tuesday night. So when he saw a door wide open (Damn Clint) with no one inside, Steve decided to pop his head in a bit and check up on the patient ( Not creepy at all ). Because you know.. They’re short staffed…

Steve walked into the patient cubicle ready for the sleeping patient to wake up. He hovered around the patient’s bed before pulling out the assessment sheet at the corner of the bedframe.

Steve spotted a very-easy-to-see marks on the patient’s skin. Steve, being the nosey little shit that he is, just can’t shake the thought of maybe, just maybe, take a look of his scars.

He eventually gave up because he is a terrible, terrible excuse of a man and finally lifts the sleeves of the gown tenderly.

That’s a lot of scars Steve thought. He felt slightly nauseous as the patient’s forearm, or James, according to the info sheet, contacted with his own hand. The scars are sloppy and fast and unlike all of the ones still wrapped neatly in medical tapes. Those were clean and precise.

He left the room deciding he has put enough of his nose in the case and he should let the guy rest in peace. He headed towards the break room to strike up a small conversation with his colleagues, and maybe give some shit to Tony for eating his donuts yesterday.

When he entered the room Tony and Rhodey were bickering away about some stupid shit Tony probably did and Sam was chatting it up with Natasha in the corner.

“So I was like holy shit man that’s the winter soldier and the dude was like uhm please save me.” Rambled Sam excitedly.

Steve liked Sam. Sam is gentle and caring and when it’s necessary, the guy doesn’t take shit from anyone. So when Steve saw how emerged Sam is in this guy, Steve was immediately intrigued.

Steve walked up to them. “Hey guys.”

“Hey Steve.” Nat replied.

“What’s up?” Asked Steve slyly.

“Have you checked on that guy in 463?" Sam questioned turning his body to face Steve.

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Great ass." Added Natasha.

Steve's face went red. "Did you saw that too?"

"Saw what?"

"Well.. He was uhm.. Nevermind, it's nothing." Nat cocked her eyebrows.

"Don't you guys know who that fucking is?" Sam inquired in a loud whisper with his mouth slightly opened. Steve and Natasha both shook their heads slowly.

"You really don't know who he is?" Sam asserted looking at Natasha.

"I only pretend to know everything birdboy." Natasha answered whilst sipping her mug.

"Dude! That guy's a legend in the VA. He's got like a hundred confirmed kills. A HUNDRED STEVE. Like how bad ass is that." Fangirled Sam.

Steve pager beeped indicating the need of his presence somewhere."Gotta go guys." And just like that he's gone.

They released Bucky the next day. Not enough beds they said. Steve got a little disappointed that the chances of him coming across that sweet sweet ass is down to almost impossible. But after going through the fast-forwarded version of the 5 Stages of Grief, he got through just alright. He went on with his life like nothing has happened. Because virtually, nothing has happened. But oh, the thing he did to that ass in his mind. Steve even considered going to the VA just to hear stories about the guy.

Nothing interesting happened in the following week.

Until it did.

Steve was just lounging away watching TV having just got back from his shift. He hasn't even changed his scrubs to some normal clothes when his phone rang.

"H-Hello?" Said a voice from the other end of the line.

"Uhm.. Who is this?" And why are you calling me at this hour?

" 's Buckyy." Said a slightly slurred voice

"Well sorry Bucky. But I think you got the wrong number." Steve's finger hovers across the screen looking for an end call button.

"W-w-waitt dont hang up." He sounded a little desperate. " I found a card in my pants and it said to call you if i need anything. A-and i uhm.. don't really know how to get home."

"Do you want me to pick you up?" Steve asked a little bit wary from the serious lack of sleep.

"Y-yeah."

"Where are you right now Bucky?"

"I'm between uhm.. Flushing avenue and Stewart street."

"I'll be there in 10." After Steve hung up, he immediately regretted his previous action. Damn Sarah Rogers and her damn moral code.

Steve pulled over when he saw a man lying on the sidewalk. He jumped from his bike and jogged towards the looks-like-hes-sleeping man. He tapped him lightly on his cheeks with the back of his hand. He recognizes the face. It was the face of James Barnes, the VA legend.

Steve dug around looking for the man's wallet and found his address. He woke Bucky up and tried to carry him to sit on his bike. Steve drove slowly and carefully trying to hold the barely conscious man on his back.

They drove silently to the seedy area of town and finally stopped in front of an okay building. Steve waited as Bucky stumbled his way of getting down from Steve’s bike. They walked towards the door and Steve pressed the buzzer.

"who's this?" Asked the gravely voice emitted by the little yellow-ish box.

"I'm uhm... Bucky's friend." Steve answered tentatively.

"You mean James?"

"Uhh..?" Good one Steve.

"Lives upstairs, long hair, scary face?"

Steve glanced at Bucky. "That's him yeah."

BZZZT. The door opened slightly.

"Thanks man." Steve told the machine.

Steve hauled Bucky on and crutched him so he can stand on his own feet. Steve kicked the metal tinged door as lightly as he can while Bucky's hand hung loosely on Steve's face. They made their way upstairs and Steve helped Bucky settle on his couch accompanied with a metal bucket he found in the bathroom. Steve set a couple tablets of aspirin and a glass of water on his tableside before he left.


	2. Ambiguous Title is Ambiguous

Bucky was glad when the nurse told him he could leave. Though he likes the grade A painkillers they gave him there, he couldn't help himself from feeling a little bit sorry for Clint's ass that was forced to sit in the uncomfortable looking chair besides his bed.  
When he got out, he was forced to get into his blood stained t-shirts that reeks of beer and self-hate from the night before. The smell of the glorious wheat, barley, and a hint of alcohol scratched a part of his brain making it yell about needing a drink, or maybe twelve. 

He was on his way to the apartment when everything went rocketing downhill. Something had happened that triggers a series of reaction in his clusterfucked, comedic tragedy of a brain. His chest tightens and goosebumps appeared on his cold sweat drenched skin. His heart is borderlining on cardiac arrest and maybe even close to flatlining, he doesn't know. A loud beating thumped in his eardrums causing him to get even more disoriented. 

His shitty brain flood itself with a shit ton of fight or flight hormone, making him unable to stop his fidgeting body for dear life. His vision got hazy and then the paranoia kicks in. 

He could feel a pair of aggressive eyes drilling into his skull forcing him to walk faster, and faster, and faster. He ended up sprinting and somehow he still felt a shadow creeping into his very soul. 

Then everything went numb. 

He can't feel his fingers and he felt like he's deaf. The scenery around him blurred like a colored old movie. He can hear the sound of his own wheezing breaths, heart beat, and blood flow. He can feel that his brain is switching to emergency mode, taking his legs into a dark alley. 

His legs felt like jelly and his brain keeps telling him to give up standing and dropping his sorry as to the dirty alley road. What the fuck is wrong with me that thought kept playing in a loop inside his brain like a damned broken record. He tried to take a deep breath and did the four by four for four technique that was ingrained in his mind from the years of navy training. He tried to even his heartbeat but failed miserably. 

As his vision slowly departs, all he sees are blindingly bright lights and powerful colors he couldn't care less about. His legs are still standing even though they felt like they'd fall from just a small gush of wind. His knees are jiggly and his heart is beating faster than a race car engine. There are voices in his head rambling incoherently. 

He dug into his pockets looking for anything.

Thankfully, he found a little white pill. He forced it into his throat, swallowing it dry. He dropped his ass to the filthy ground, wrapping his hand around his throbbing head. And he just sat there, on the dirty alley lane, waiting. Waiting for his brain to get itself together, and waiting for that xanax to kick in. 

 

  
Hours later he woke up groggily opening one eye at a time. The horrid smell of rotten cheese filled his lungs as he took a deep breath. There were cricks on his neck making it stiff. His palms hurts from gripping to the gravel last night. 

On the way home, he stopped at a mini-market to buy a six pack. He kept making excuses for his own behavior but it's getting harder to stay in denial when you need it to soothe the ever present bite-sized heart attack that stayed within him. 

 

"Where the fuck were you?" 

"I fell asleep in an alley," 

Clint shrugged his shoulder. "Clean up man you smell like shit," 

Clint and Bucky are roommates. It's a very great arrangement, more than either of them would ever admit. Both of the served, though not even in the same hemisphere consider Bucky's background in navy and Clint was in the army. Both of them understands that most of them comes back with something they didn't came with. And they have different ways of coping.  
Sometimes when the day seems bleak, the nightmare would come. His screams could probably wake up the entire block, not Clint though. He's partially deaf. Bucky is not saying that being deaf is Clint's best attribute, no. He also have a dog. His name is Lucky. The mutt got that name because Clint thought that that dog is very lucky for finding an owner that feeds him pizza. Clint is kinda cool. 

As soon as he walked into the bathroom he began undressing himself. He took off his rancid shirt slowly, trying not to mess up the bandages he's got on his forearm. Then his pants, and all the way to his socks.  
He stood still as he watched the water pour into the yellow-ish tub. He thought about random things, like how would it feel like to be a drop of water. Constantly moving, changing form, yet somehow they always fit.

Bucky stepped into the tub slowly, soaking his aching throbbing body into the soothing warm water. He felt his gauze slowly disintegrating, letting minuscule drops of blood seeps right out of it. He doesn't care.  
Sooner or later the water will turn cold and his skin would wrinkle, causing him a slight discomfort. Bucky dried himself with a towel and walked right out of the bathroom. 

He picked up a slice of frozen pizza with only his towel wrapped around his waist. He downed the ghastly meal with a can of beer. 

 

"Do you want me to call in to work?" Bucky's not quite sober mind was startled for a second or two before he remembered what day is it. 

"Shit man, what time is it?" Yelled Bucky as he ran to his room frantically searching for clean clothes. 

"Chill, it's like 7. You still have lots of time," responded Clint. 

 

 

♡♡○○♡♡

 

 

Something is off about Steve Rogers. Sam theorized that he's just brooding, not sure why. Natasha begs to differ. To be honest, she thinks he's actually pining. And not just your regular sad boi pining™ no, he's pining for a certain dark haired, rugged, nice piece of ass that she may, or may not have accidentally slipped Steve's card into this certain man's pants.

And when in doubt, she does what she does best, she puts her nose in it.

Sometime around that day, Steve made his mistake by taking one of his caffeine fueled break. He looked forward to the thing, and of course, it was ruined. 

"You do know that he's got your number right?"  
Natasha said as she pulled a seat closer to Steve.

"What are you talking about?" He asked with an incredulous face.

"You know what I'm talking about," He sighed. 

"I really don't Natasha, please elaborate."

"He called you that night Steve. Aren't you sulking about that?" 

Steve puts on his best shocked face. "What? No!"

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

"I have this patient in room 106-" 

“Cut the shit Rogers,” Nat knows just how intimidating she can be, and she certainly doesn’t waste any of her god given abilities. “We both know what happened.”

“You do? How?”

“It’s not a coincidence that the person you’ve been pining on just suddenly have your number now is it?” Woah. Steve’s mind is like, super blown right now.

“Just call him back.”

“I don’t have his number Nat.”

“But he did call you didn’t he? Can’t you just check your call log?”

“Uhm.. no.” Steve said, sheepishly. “He called my landline.”

Natasha could’ve swore she snorted some of her coffee.

“What the fuck? The number on your card is your landline?” She claimed with disbelief and her fingers pressed on her nose. “Wait, you still have a landline? What are you? 70?”

“I know! I just haven’t had the time okay. I haven’t updated my cards since I started med school.”

“You still have the same landline as you did 14 years ago?”

“If it ain’t broke..”

“Holy shit.” She said with a hint of amazement in her voice.

He sighed. “I know.”

 

♡♡○○♡♡

 

 

“Barnes! GLAD TO HAVE YOU BACK FRIEND!” Thor beams from the other end of the room.

Ah yes.. The bliss of the white collar work environment. The cubicles, the water cooler, that one colleague who works in the bottom of the corporate food chain even though his dad owns the company.. Just the regular things.

No one really knows why Thor works down here in accounting. His dad is most definitely the most powerful man in the building. Some said that the dad wanted him to understand every niche and corner of the company so he can run it one day and others said that this is a punishment for a wrong he did awhile back. Nevertheless everyone needs to admit that it’s always nice having him down here, it’s almost like having a realy smart loud dog who smiles all the time.

“Thanks pal,” Bucky said as he sat quietly on his chair in his 2×2 workspace cubicle. He checked his emails and wasn’t really surprised when he saw the amount of work he needs to be doing.

Sigh.

He should be grateful, he knows that, but he’s not. He’s got a great career, a nice income, great friends, and a very supportive sister. He’s got a degree from Columbia for hell’s sakes. 

Bucky has lived a charmed life. From the moment he was born till his capture in Kandahar. Even then he was one of the lucky ones who made it out alive despite the condition his mind and body was in. He’s lucky and he knows it. 

But sometimes, everyone needs a break now and then.


End file.
